April
by castlet0pia
Summary: AU* When a young and handsome journalist Richard Rodgers takes a month to travel by train across Europe, he expects to get his first book done. Instead, he meets Kate Beckett; a book of her own. What will the sunny month in Europe bring to two strangers meeting on a train? Friendship, lust, love and life all combined into one month of adventures and a chance to change their lives.
1. Chapter 1: I'm off to

**I'm back! It took me so long to get rid of this writer's block or at least get a good enough idea to start writing again. **

**I know, I promised you guys a lot, like HSL sequels and continuations, but this has been a weird six months for me. And I haven't had enough time to write. Not with school and everything else. **

**I hope you'll like this though. It's just an idea I thought of when reading a book (it's one by a Slovenian author, so...) and I decided it'd be worth to try to put it to paper - or in this case computer. **

**I hope you like it AND never mind if you're confused as to the details of this story for now. It's only temporarily. I'm going to tell you everything in the next chapters, ok? Ok. **

**Now, continue with reading please.**

**I hope you'll like it! (:**

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: I'M OFF TO...**

_I know that feeling. You have to do something. You have to change something radically, because you can't stay like you are for another second, or you're going to explode._

Jennifer Echols – Forget You

* * *

_April 1st, 2002_

Many people have often wondered upon meeting the young Richard what he is going to be once he grows old enough to understand the unfair pressure of the world on the youth and the need to make choices and choose what is going to be best for you in a few years. The world never really offers you a chance to choose between living your life to the fullest and forgetting all about present and instead planning for future.

So Richard, or Rick, as many of his friends call him, has doubts about the stupid clichés of everyday life. What does living even mean?

He wants adventure, he wants passion, he wants to do something he's never done before and rediscover himself in the process.

That's exactly the reason why he decides to run away from his own life.

He's never thought of himself as flighty; more clingy than anything else, really. But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Only that's too cliché for a young man like Rick, who is hoping to become a world-known novelist and have his books selling in millions of copies. He wants to share his inner thoughts with other people, find out if they process emotions in a way he does.

"Richard?" He snaps out of his thoughts as his mother's voice fills his small Manhattan apartment. He bought this small loft on a whim, after hearing the story of its owner. He's always been a sucker for stories. Not that he's sorry for buying the small apartment; it's cozy and big enough for him to live in. It was once almost too small for him and his –

"There you are!" Rick's mother sighs as she steps into the living room where he's standing in front of his bookshelf.

"Hello, mother," he exhales as an answer, but his look doesn't stray away from the books and their dusty, old covers.

"Richard, what are you doing? We need to be going in 10 minutes if we want to get there in time."

"I know," he says. His mother, always the drama queen as she's supposed to be, waves with her hands in a desperate manner and turns him around with her hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me, darling. I know this is hard for you and that you're still hurting from the events of the past few months, but you need to move on from that. And what better way to do that than with your friends by your side as you finally reach your 24th year of life?"

Richard scrubs his hand down his face and through his hair, ruffling it. There is a thought that flutters in the back of his mind, something about hair gel and how he's just run out of shampoo, but it's gone as quickly as it's come when his mother steps in to guide him to his bedroom and deposits him in front of his closet.

"Now, dear," she starts, "Seeing as you're apparently not going to do anything by yourself, I am going to help you. But only this time, do you hear me? What's done is done, Richard. You cannot weep forever after what you've lost."

Rick can barely hear her words. He's still stuck somewhere in October, when he was called into the hospital from his friend's engagement party. That hospital and that phone call still haunt him, they wrap like vines around his neck at night when he can't sleep. There's only so much one can withstand before they collapse.

And that night spent at the hospital, Richard almost gave up on himself. If it weren't for his mother, he'd never be half the man he is now. Even though the man he's currently staring at in his bathroom mirror doesn't resemble the Richard Alexander Rodgers everyone used to know a few months ago. He doesn't even recognize himself anymore.

* * *

Kate Beckett has always prided herself with being able to read people, being able to see through their lies and recognize the truth.

Now, Kate wonders how she would look in another person's eyes. Broken? Fierce? Saddened? Determined?

All of that, probably. If anyone would be able to truly read her, like her mother does – had been. Like her mother _had been_.

Kate's lost now. All alone in this too-big world. At least it feels that way to her. Like she has no one. Never mind her Academy friends. They don't know much about Kate, just know about the loss that's made her want to bring justice to others. They don't know about the nights she spent crying on her bed, just wishing the world would go away. They don't know about the grief that's driven her mad, made her break into a precinct's file room to search for the justice, the closure she never got.

Kate's not crazy, no. Just hurt. And desperately wishing to travel back in time to repair the damage that's been done to her without any reason.

"Beckett?" She spins around on her heel and stares at the young man casually leaning on the doorframe. She gets an almost irresistible urge to shut the door in his face.

"Hey, Espo," she answers instead.

"You coming to the club tonight?" he asks her slowly, with narrowed eyes. He must know something's not entirely right with her. Then again, she hasn't been alright since that night in January a year ago.

"I don't know. I'm not really in the mood tonight," she says lamely and scrunches up her face, then sits down on her bed.

"Come on, Beckett. It'll be fun, take your mind off things."

"I don't really think that's possible anymore, Javi," she tells him seriously and he sighs, then steps forward and crunches down in front of her.

"Kate. I'm your friend, right?"

"Yeah. Yes. You are." He seems pleased with that. His mouth turns up a bit and she finds a small smile gracing her face in return.

"Then trust me when I say a night out with some of the most awesome people in here will make you feel better." She laughs suddenly, the weight easing off her heart for a moment as she looks down at her friend.

"Okay," she finally gives in and sees Esposito's eyes lighten up.

"You'll come?"

"I'll come."

"Great! Get dressed then, we meet outside in ten with Kevin and Lanie," he tells her as he stands up. She gives him a brief nod, then jumps a little when the door slams closed after him.

She had been planning on telling her friends only after she'd get out of the Academy and was already at her destination, but she figures now is as good time as any. They would probably react a bit better if she told them the news in person.

* * *

The light blinds him for a moment as Rick takes the first few steps into the Old Haunt. There is a crowd gathered there; his friends, family members, some of his colleagues from New York Times. He's supposed to feel happy, right?

Well, news flash. He doesn't feel happy a_t all_.

He doesn't know if it's the atmosphere or the missing presence of his ex and…

He feels empty.

He should be happy; it _is _his 24th birthday after all. But all he feels is this nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the absent voice of a child's laughter and the memories of having ice cream Sundays, and spending long evening hours watching Disney movies.

He misses all the things he never even got a chance to have.

"Happy Birthday!" he hears the crowd cheer, and he manages a weak smile and a low 'thank you'. He's sure he's never been this unhappy in his whole life.

His mother comes charging into him, kisses his cheek and wishes him all the best, hugs the crap out of him, then finally moves out of the way to let other people near him, too.

He receives congratulations from almost everyone, even his boss, Gina.

It feels Rick up with grief; this cold and unsettling thing coiling deep in his heart. He doesn't want to hurt people who love him, doesn't want to leave his mother alone. He wants to find Meredith and make her try again, make her try for _them_. But Rick knows she would have refused. She's like that: flighty and emotionally unstable to have a serious relationship with anyone. At least not right now. And even if Rick tried for this thing they called relationship to work, he got burned. He got burned real bad, and that made him fear loving anyone ever again. He's still not completely over Meredith. Not yet. But in a few years, maybe he'd be able to forget the saddest story he would ever tell in his whole life.

* * *

The club is thumping, the electronic music blazing through the speakers as Kate walks in with her friends. Esposito takes Lanie's hand and drags her off to the dance floor immediately, presses in close to his girlfriend and drinks in her red dress and black hair that glows so brightly with the lights in the club.

Kate turns to her left and fins Kevin standing there, watching her closely, trying to figure out what's different about her.

She figures Esposito has told him about their encounter in Kate's room.

"Are you okay?" he asks suddenly and for a second there, she feels the rush of possibilities run through her head.

"Yeah. Thanks, Ryan," she gets out of her mouth, before she's tugging him by the sleeve of his jacket towards an empty table in the back.

He's being awfully quiet, even as he sways slightly to the music and watches their friends dance together in a tangle of limbs.

"Kevin…" she starts and his startled eyes flicker to meet hers. "I'm going away," she admits, so quiet that she thinks he couldn't possibly hear her, but she hears a sharp intake of breath and knows he heard her loud and clear.

"Why?" he asks her after some time, after he's cleaned his face of confusion and sadness.

"I have to."

"You don't. Beckett. Why?" Kate's tempted to tell him everything, tell him about how she cannot fall down that rabbit hole again, how she needs to _feel _again, needs to be away from everything for a while. Kevin's a nice guy and she could picture him as the caring boyfriend she has always wanted, but he shouldn't get involved with someone like her, someone with so much baggage. He doesn't deserve that.

"I need to leave New York. Leave this city. I'm so filled up with grief, Kev. I'm not sure I'm able to feel anything anymore."

"Where will you go?" he asks her desperately.

"I'm not sure. Somewhere in Europe. I can't – I can't tell you where. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, Beckett. Think instead of your father. Are you seriously planning on leaving him alone at a time like this?" Kate feels rage bubble up inside her. How dare he even bring up her father?

"Don't. He's – he's not my father anymore. I want to help him but I'm breaking myself while doing it already. It's not any good. He can't stay sober for more than a few days anyway."

"Kate, you have to think this through. Have – have you thought this through?"

"No," she answers sincerely, doesn't shy away from the question. She knows that what she's doing is completely irresponsible and stupid. But she needs space and time to clear her head and fill herself up with energy and life. She wants to _feel _again.

"Are you sure?" comes Kevin's timid question.

"I'm sure. I'm not backing off on this, Ryan. You can't convince me to stay," she tells him over the music and keeps his gaze.

"Then I guess I'll just have to support you," he says and Kate's eyes water with gratitude for his support, for him. She would kiss him, if she wasn't so fucked up.

"Thank you," she says instead, takes his hand across the table and squeezes it with trembling fingers. Kevin nods and gives her a tight-lipped smile, then stands up and leads her to the dance floor to forget everything.

* * *

He's sitting in a booth in the far corner of the bar, cradling a glass of scotch between his fingers, when his mother rushes to him and pulls him up by his elbow.

"Stop trying to avoid the party," she hisses at him, tugs him with her to the bar, away from the booth he'd grown so accustomed to over the past hour and a half.

Rick wants to tell his mother to leave him alone, but he knows Martha Rodgers has always only wanted what's best for her son.

"I'm not avoiding the party," he pouts, sits down heavily on the stool at the bar and drags his mother to sit down on the opposite one.

"Yes you are. This is _your _party, Richard. You're 24. There's no need to put up an act of a good boy to impress me, darling." He huffs and downs the rest of his scotch, signals to the bartender for another one. "Richard. Stop drinking and go out there and socialize, for God's sake. I'll get old and rusty before you even speak to any of the beautiful girls here," she says and he fakes a laugh to try and get past that last bit of her comment. He's still not over Meredith, he tells himself.

"Mother, you're _already_ old. There's no need to embellish things, you know." He gets a flick at his ear for that and jumps at his seat, opens his mouth in protest, but his mother is glaring at him and that shuts him up.

"Richard. I'm still quite young and able, thank you very much. But enough about me. You should go mingle."

"I don't want to," he responds and shrugs to emphasize what he's just said.

"Yes you do."

"No I don't. Stop trying to act like you know me," he hisses at her over the rim of his glass and then closes her eyes as Martha visually shrinks in her seat.

"I'm your mother, Richard. I have to know you. If I don't, then all I've ever done for you, was for nothing, if I hadn't taught you anything at all." Rick looks away from her and instead focuses on the spot on the pale yellow wall behind the counter. "I'm sorry about everything that happened to you in the last few months, Richard. But I raised you. I know you're stronger than this and I know you'll get better in time."

"And that's exactly one of the reasons why I'm leaving New York tomorrow morning." His mother's eyes widen and then narrow as she stares at him.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"Where?" she asks, fishing for information.

"I'm going to travel across Europe, probably. I've saved some money from when I…" he trails off and Martha's posture softens.

"My dear. You don't have to go to make yourself whole again. There is so much that could happen to you here. Don't lose faith."

"I haven't lost faith in myself yet, Mother. I've just lost faith in this city. And I do have to go. I'm numb, mom. I can't _feel_ anything. I've lost the light of my life before I eve got the chance to…" he chokes out, then stops as he feels a wave of tears against his eyelids. His mother's hand is right there at his shoulder to comfort him and he finds himself reassured and collected once again.

"I'm leaving in the morning. I won't be back for a month."

"Why would you do this to yourself? Spend time away from you loved ones?"

"I don't _feed _on love, Mother. I have to learn to live without it. And besides, look at this as a kind of a personal growth experience. I'll get to see people I never would if I hadn't made this choice right now. I'll be able to write stories and books about people I'd see on the street. This is where I'll find myself again, Mother. In writing. I just have to start again and I can't do that here." His mother nods slowly and then sighs. She looks unwilling to let go of him, but he's desperate enough to run away from her if she clings too tightly. He needs to escape this city and the dark hold it has on him. He needs to get away as soon as possible.

"Fine, darling," his mother says eventually. "Do what you have to do. But if you come back same or even worse as you were, be prepared to face judgment, kiddo. I'll miss you, though." He smiles.

It's just going to be a month and then he'll come back. Hopefully completely renewed and ready to face the world.

**Thoughts? (:**

**Oh and it's SO good to be back! **

**Ariela**


	2. Chapter 2: What you're searching for

**It's taken me a while to write this one down, but I think it's gonna go more smoothly from now on. **

**I only wanted to warn you guys to not be surprised when any of the details won't fit with the original CASTLE backstory, because I've changed it for the purposes of this fic. **

**I hope you like this chapter. (:**

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: WHAT YOU'RE SEARCHING FOR**

_You know how _

_you let yourself think that everything will be all right if you can_

_get to a certain place or do a certain thing. But when you_

_get there, you find it's not that simple._

Richard Adams – Watership Down

* * *

_April 2nd_

It's the screaming of children that wakes Kate up. She straightens in her seat, yawns and looks out the window of the plane. They're nearing the ground now, and she can just barely see the outline of the Paris below them.

Kate doesn't really know why she chose Paris to begin with. She's always wanted to visit the 'city of love' as most people call it. Maybe she secretly hoped she'd find a new start here.

She still hopes so.

* * *

Rick steps out of the airport terminal and breathes in the air. It's about 4 PM in Paris and the voices of the people passing by seem so far away.

He's finally here, away from New York and the things that make him blue.

There are a few cabbies smoking cigarettes, leaning on their cabs. Rick steps closer to one of them, a blonde man in his late twenties, and nods to him. The man offers him a wide smile and puts his mouth around the cigarette again, then flicks it away and steps forward with an extended hand.

"Hello," he greets with an American accent. Rick is surprised by this and as he shakes the man's hand, he introduces himself, "Hi, I'm Richard Rodgers." The man laughs and pats Rick's shoulder.

"An American, huh?" The cabbie receives a small nod for an answer.

"Well okay then. I'm Jean Rouvette."

"It's nice to meet you. So you're French?" Rick can't help asking.

"No, man. I was born in New Jersey, but I have French parents."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So… You need a ride?" Jean asks him and Richard slowly nods in confirmation.

"Yeah, I do."

"Great then. Get in."

Rick enters the cab and immediately sighs as the voices from the city clear out of his head.

"Where are you going?" Jean asks and it's only then that Rick realizes he doesn't know where to go. He doesn't know anything about good places to see in Paris.

"I don't know," he mumbles eventually. Jean looks back at him and then laughs soundly.

"Don't tell me you came here without a plan?" Richard just shrugs and looks out the window to avoid the man's gaze.

"Look… I don't want to be rude, but that wasn't really smart, man. But you know what… You've just come upon the greatest cabbie ever. So I'm gonna take you around, show you what's good here, yeah?" The weight slowly lifts off of Rick's chest at the man's offer.

"Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks."

He closes his eyes as the cab speeds off into Parisian traffic.

* * *

Kate finds herself sitting on a bench at Sarah Bernhardt Square, facing Rue de Lagny. Soon after arriving in Paris, Kate figured there are such beautiful houses and infrastructures in Paris. One of them is a half-brick house Kate's staring at now, a pale pink color covering the façade. It looks so beautiful. It's not like there's not a lot of buildings like this one in New York, but European architecture is… something else entirely. It's like you can take a peek back into the history while just looking at a certain building, like you're allowed to be a part of something greater. And Kate loves this. Loves that she can finally feel like she's free.

"Excusez-moi…" she hears after a while and she looks up to see a young couple handing out a camera to her.

"Parle vous français?" they ask her and she nods, but instead of letting them talk further, Kate stands up and says, "But you're not French, are you?" The woman with bright blue eyes smiles at her and nods.

"No, we're from England," she responds and Kate gives her a smile.

"We were wondering if you would mind taking a picture?" Kate shakes her head and stretches out her hand to take the camera.

"No, no, sure." She snaps two photos of the couple and just as she's handing them back the camera, she freezes as a sea of thoughts floods her mind.

She wants that, she realizes. Trips with her boyfriend and taking pictures and goofing around and taking walks in the park. She wants someone to forget all her troubles with.

"Um… Miss?" Kate shakes out of her trance and apologizes to the woman, gives her back the camera. The couple leaves and Kate finds herself wandering the streets of Paris once again. She doesn't really know where to go, what she's searching for, but she figures following her heart is the next best thing.

* * *

Jean finally drives Rick to a bar that evening. They've spent the whole afternoon sightseeing; mostly Rick, because Jean has already seen it all. Paris seems to look more magnificent on brochures and in pictures, but the reality of it is somehow just more … real to Rick.

The bar Jean has brought him to is called 'Harry's New York Bar'. As soon as Rick steps in, he can see dozens of people drinking cocktails, hear their chatter and the clinking of the glasses.

The bar is not big, but not too small either; it's perfect, just like a bar should be. The walls are wooden, covered with American baseball and basketball club flags and there's a distinct smell of alcohol in the air. Rick thinks he can hear the piano playing somewhere close by, but he forgets about that as soon as Jean pushes him towards the bar, mumbling in his ear something about all the nice ladies in the bar. Rick ends up pressed against Jean on his left and one of those 'nice ladies' on his right. He turns toward her for a moment and she flashes him a bright smile. She's pretty, but Rick's not really into meeting a random stranger and having a one-night stand with her. He can have that back in New York, too.

So he nods politely and then turns to the bartender and orders a glass of Jack Daniels; just to keep his mind off of things he isn't supposed to be thinking about in first place; like loving and losing and letting go.

"So, Rick," Jean starts with a smirk covering his face, "how do you like it here?"

"Here as in Paris or here as in Harry's NY Bar?" Jean laughs and then claps his hand on Rick's shoulder.

"I mean in general."

"Paris is nice, beautiful buildings and parks, nice people. The bar is quite fine, too."

"You like it here, then?"

"Yeah…"

"Thinking about staying?" he asks carefully. Rick grabs his glass and then shooks his head once.

"Nah. I'll keep travelling; see where it leads me. I gotta end up in the right place in the end, right?" Jean nods sympathetically, then lifts up his glass to knock it against Rick's.

"Cheers!" he shouts, then takes a swig of his drink.

"By the way; there's a girl that's been watching you from the corner of the bar since we've come in here," Jean adds for good measure, then seems to disappear somewhere downstairs. Rick turns around and locks gazes with a pretty girl Jean mentioned.

She must be about twenty, Rick thinks, and as she laughs to her friend by her side about something, then they both look back at him, Rick decides to go there and at least meet her if nothing else.

As he comes closer to the place where she's standing, she straightens up and shoots him a wide grin. He smiles back and extends his hand as he reaches her.

"Hi," he says and the girl lets out a low chuckle.

"Salut," she murmurs back and shakes his hand. Her fingers are soft, with long fingernails. He feels a rush of lust pass through his veins at only the thought of those nails buried into his back. He knows he shouldn't be thinking like that, but it's been months and he wants to forget Meredith in any way possible. If it means obeying his primal urges, then well… Nothing too wrong with that, right?

"Do you speak English?" Rick asks the girl and she shrugs.

"A little," she answers with a broken French accent.

"Well then, I'm Rick," he offers and his hand flows into his hair.

"Je suis Adelene," she tells him.

"Nice to meet you… Adelene." The girl giggles and lifts her cocktail glass to her lips to take a sip.

Rick is about to comment on how pretty she looks, when he hears the bar doors close behind someone. He turns around and suddenly it seems as if the whole world has stopped before his eyes and he can only see _her_.

The woman's got long brown locks and a _great _figure and as her mouth lifts up into a soft smile and her eyes twinkle in the lights from the bar, it makes her even more attractive and dangerous at the same time; _femme fatale_, Rick thinks.

* * *

Kate steps into the dimly-lit Parisian bar. Her first thought is that it reminds her of New York, so she smiles to herself and takes a careful step into the crowd gathered at the bar.

There is a young bartender making cocktails at the bar and as she leans on the counter with her elbows, he looks at her appreciatively and throws her a sleazy smile. He looks attractive and in only his undershirt, there's just _so much to see_.

"Salut," he greets her and quickly fixes another cocktail for a woman in the corner.

"Bonsoir," she says back and catches his wink as he yells something to someone over the room. Kate turns around and sees a man in his late twenties grinning widely at her. She nods politely back at him, then looks at the bartender. He's leaned over the counter in the mean time and he's so close, Kate can smell his alcohol breath on her face. It's pretty unattractive to her, but she'll live.

"You a tourist?" he asks her and Kate nods swiftly. The bartender extends his hand.

"I'm Jacques. And you?"

"Kate. I'm Kate," she answers with a tight smile on her face. Jacques leans even closer, so that his nose is almost in contact with Kate's.

"You from America, right?" he starts and as Kate gives him a 'yes' in confirmation, he continues, "I've been in New Jersey, yes. Lots of pretty girls," he states, then lets his gaze wander down, to her chest where her sweatshirt hangs a bit low. Kate clears her throat and fixes the hem a bit higher on her chest, then leaves her hand there to make sure it doesn't slip too low again.

"You're a pretty girl too," the Jacques says and Kate shrinks back from the bar at his expectant gaze. There is just no way in hell she's going to have an affair with this guys. He's too disrespectful, even though she's just barely met him.

"Thank you," she answers him and then steps away from the counter altogether.

"Excuse me," she offers in goodbye and then peruses her other options. She's half-tempted to get out of here and find somewhere else to go, but just as she's about to turn around and go back outside to the street, she spots _him _in the back corner of the room.

* * *

Rick sees the girl head towards the bar, sees her leaning towards the bartender and sees the man leering at her.

He feels this unexplainable rage inside him: how the hell could someone look so disgustingly at this beautiful creature!?

Suddenly, Rick feels a small hand on his biceps and looks down at Adelene who's licking her lips in a strongly suggestive manner.

He merely smiles back at her, then averts his eyes to the femme fatale with beautiful eyes.

He spots her drawing the hem of her sweatshirt a bit higher and then Rick clenches his teeth as he sees the bartender practically in the woman's face.

Rick's feet shuffle a bit forward against his will. Maybe not totally against. He has a strong urge to plant his fist into the bartender's face.

"Where you go?" Adelene asks him and he turns swiftly back to her and shakes his head, then turns back to the woman. She's moved away from the bar now and is standing almost in the middle of the bar. He's transfixed, focused on her every move.

Rick licks his dry lips and at the same moment the woman turns around and he can't even _breathe_.

He can't quite discern the color of her eyes from this distance, but they look dark and smoky and as attractive as the woman's mouth or the angle of her jaw or her hair.

She looks _amazing_.

And she's staring _back at him_.

He thinks he might be having a heart attack.

And then the woman smiles and bites her lip and Rick's positively sure he's dead.

He hears Jean's voice somewhere close by, but can't move his eyes off of the woman.

"Richard!" A fist lands in Rick's chest and as he snaps out of his reverie, Jean looks at the woman.

"Ohoho, what do we got here?"

"Leave it, Jean," Rick tells him and unbuttons another button on his maroon shirt. It's so hot in here.

"That girl? Man, she looks dangerous." The woman is now looking for something in her backpack, occasionally sneaking glances in Rick's direction.

"Do you know her?" Rick asks.

"Nah, man. She must be a tourist; the backpack and all."

"But you've never seen her before?"

"No. I'm sure I would have remembered her." Rick's chest squeezed at the thought.

"Yeah. She's quite… unforgettable."

"You gonna go talk to her?"

"No."

"You want to?" _Yes._

"No, I'm fine," Rick lies and gives Jean a small smile. Jean just shakes his head and takes a firm hold of Rick's forearm, pulls him in the direction of the steps to the basement space.

As Rick takes the first step down, he doesn't even care that Adelene is creeping behind his back, he only has eyes for the beautiful girl that looks absolutely lost in here, like a little child in a city full of harmful people. He wants to save her, take her somewhere safe where nobody could ever get to her.

The last thing he sees about the upper floor is the girl's eyes locking with his.

* * *

Kate is looking for a pack of cigarettes in her backpack when she looks up and sees the handsome man talking to another; a friend, she thinks.

They're both looking at her and after a while, they turn and head downstairs and Kate catches the stranger's eye as he descends the stairs.

Kate bites her bottom lip again and quickly lights a cigarette with nervous hands. She thinks the man had been interested in her, but she can't be sure…

She's deciding on either leaving the place or going downstairs, when she hears the piano playing somewhere close by.

The stairs that lead down to the basement are lit with Christmas lights and there's a big neon sign above them that says 'PIANO BAR'. Kate smiles at that. When she was a child, her mother would play the piano to her some evenings and even teach her a few notes. But as the time passed, Kate had found more interest in rock 'n' roll and guitar, so she abandoned the short and rare piano lessons for her father's guitar ones. She kind of misses her mom's lessons now, though. She already knows how to play guitar, but she'd like to know how to play piano, too. Her father doesn't know how to play it and her mother, well… Her mother is just not around to teach her anymore.

Kate will forever regret her past decisions that caused the loss of time with her mother.

As Kate goes down the steps, she hears the crowd applause and the distant voice of someone singing. It's a jazz tune, which recognizes as Ray Charles's song, and the man currently singing it downstairs sings beautifully.

Kate can't help but wonder if it's the man from across the bar singing.

And it is. It's _him_, swaying on the piano bench, with his fingers moving sinfully swift over the black and white keys. His voice is a mix of harsh rasps and harmony, strung together with precision and practice and something that sounds like the ocean splashing against the shoreline.

Kate moves a bit from her position to stand more in the direct line of his sight, just so she can see his whole face, admire him, get him back for when he so unabashedly admired her upstairs just a few minutes earlier. She lets herself relax and watch his mouth as he forms words, the angle of his jaw as he lifts his head, the slope of his nose like a mountain range, spreading up over his face to the place where his eyebrows are separated by the skin that's glistening with sweat. His eyes are closed, the lids tightly shut to separate reality from the song.

He looks so soft in the dimmed lights of the room.

And then he opens his eyes and focuses them on _her _and she thinks she can hear him lose his breath for a moment there, like he can't quite believe she's here.

* * *

Rick tries to get rid of the annoying woman following him, so when the pianist shouts into the crowd if anyone would like to play a song, Rick immediately shouts yes and excuses himself to Adelene, sits in front of the piano and tries to think of a song to play. Dear God, he hasn't played in _ages_.

Just as he thinks he's _so _doomed, someone in the crowd shouts, "Play something from Ray Charles!" and Rick sighs in relief. He knows Ray Charles's songs, has perfected them to the point where it sounds almost like the man himself is playing.

So he starts to play, closes his eyes and tries to pretend like he's in his old living room in his and his mother's apartment, 19 years old and barely aware of the world around him. It helps.

Somewhere close to the end of the song, Rick opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is _the _woman standing at eleven o'clock and watching him with a twinkle in her eyes, and one of her hands – holding a cigarette – pressed against her smiling mouth. She spots him staring at her and sucks on the cigarette once, then blows out the smoke. It works strangely easing for Rick and he feels as though his burden is being lifted from his shoulders just by the vision of a woman smoking a cigarette.

Rick grins at the brunette and continues playing, never looking away from her. As he finishes and she slowly claps five times along with others, she's being slowly extricated from his sight as the flood of bodies charges towards him to clap his shoulder or to flaunt hands and boobs in his face. He feels fear surge through him, realizes he's frightened of not ever seeing the woman again, so he stands up, briefly thanks the crowd and politely brushes off attempts from people to get him to have a drink with them. He storms over to the place where the woman was standing only moments ago and she's not there anymore.

Rick curses under his breath and makes his way through the throngs of people, searching for the brown hair and captivating eyes.

There is a flurry of brown somewhere on his left and he turns around and finally sees her leaning against a wall in the back. She looks a bit lonely with only her backpack by her side and the cigarette now already finished and her hands hidden in the pockets of her grey cardigan.

She spots him then, shoots him a lazy smile and closes her eyes.

As he approaches her, he can see her throat moving and he guesses she's humming along to a song that's playing in the background.

She looks like an angel.

"Nice playing there," she says suddenly, still with eyes tightly shut. Rick stutters for a moment and then clears his throat.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I guess." The woman finally opens her eyes and they're laughing at him, although her mouth stays closed and in a firm line. She only nods, then tilts her head to the side and Rick can see that her cheeks are painted a rosy color. He figures she might be blushing, but he doesn't know exactly why.

"So you're from America, huh?" he asks, because he has absolutely _no idea _how to start a conversation another way. The woman smirks at him.

"Yeah. You too, right?"

"Yep. Proud American right here," he answers and then mentally slaps himself.

_What are you doing, Rick!?_

"Nice to hear that," she replies with almost serious eyes and he thinks she might really mean that.

"Yeah. So uh… What brings you to Paris?" he tries after a minute.

"Nothing. Just… Exploring. You know how it is," she says, but Rick senses she's hiding something. He's not about to go and push her so she uncovers all her secrets to him, though. So he stays silent. For about three seconds.

"Yeah, I know." She gives him a warm smile and pulls one of her hands out of the pocket, presents him with a cigarette pack turned towards him.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"Um… Sure. Yeah," he says casually (at least tries to sound casual – he's not sure she really believes him) and pulls a cigarette out. The woman does the same and lights it, then shoves the lighter in front of his face. Rick quickly puts the cigarette into his mouth and she lights it. As Rick inhales the smoke though, he starts coughing and almost chokes on his own saliva. He's pretty sure he's burned his lungs out when he feels the woman's fingers on his wrist, wrapping like wool over his pulse. He stops coughing and shifts his gaze to the woman's eyes and she's chuckling at him.

"You sure you smoke?" she teases and Rick swears he can see a hint of a tongue behind her teeth.

"I do, I just – it's been a long time," he tells her. It's the truth; the last time he smoked cigarette was the summer before college.

"Mhm," she hums, unconvinced, then releases his arm from her hold. He instantly misses the warmth of her palm, her fingertips and as she pushes her fist back into the pocket and leans against the wall again, he leans back too, right next to her side.

They stay quiet like that for a few minutes. Rick finally gets used to the burn of the cigarette smoke, the way it scorches and sizzles down his throat and behind his tongue.

If he's being honest, he has missed the way cigarettes had always made him feel – lightheaded and relaxed, more in tune with his inner music and the rhythm of the world, than when he didn't smoke.

As they both finish their cigarettes and put them out, dump them into the ash tray, the woman turns to him and he's speechless.

* * *

There is an annoying warmth inside of Kate's belly as the man stares at her, a flutter of excitement rushing through her at the way he's leaning against the wall and slightly bowing forwards to her.

She notices he's a head taller than her. He's almost looming over her, almost everywhere around her now. Kate feels a pang in her stomach and realizes it's fear. She cannot afford having someone like _him _only for one night and then leaving him. She can see he's different. She's not capable of anything more than a fleeting affair and she sees in his eyes he doesn't deserve to be heartbroken. She shouldn't be looking for hope in here. Not in him.

So she straightens and prepares to leave.

* * *

"I have to go," she tells him slowly, with her eyes lowered to the ground. He immediately straightens up too as confusion clouds his eyes.

"What? Why?"

"I have – I have a train to catch. I gotta go." She picks up her backpack and zips it, taps her cardigan pocket, then lifts her eyes to his.

"Don't go," he says. She sighs and rubs her forehead with her fingers.

"I have to."

"Don't."

"I'm sorry," she says, then extracts her hand out of her pocket again, now holding a single cigarette. She holds it out to him and he takes it, capturing her thumb along with it. There's a single collision of his stuttering heartbeat and the spark that flows through him at the contact and then she's pulling back and saying 'Goodbye' and he's so not done with her yet, but she's already shuffling through the crowd. He takes a step forward to catch her, but then Adelene suddenly shows up in front of him and kisses him on the mouth. He's rigid at first, but then he responds and as she pulls away and pulls him after her, leading him into a cab and to her apartment, he starts to feel dirt all over himself, like a suffocating blanket. His body might participate in what happens in the next two hours, but his heart's not in it not even a little bit. He keeps seeing the brunette as Adelene moves above him, he tries to whisper the woman's name as he hovers over Adelene's lips, but he can't because he doesn't know it and he feels so damn stupid he leaves after round two, when Adelene falls soundly asleep.

As he wanders the Parisian streets for the next half an hour, he startles when he looks up and sees the sign for the train station hanging above his head.

**Tadam! Yeah, it's like 2 AM here, so I guess sorry if you didn't like it, ok? Ok. **

**I'm gonna go sleep now. Probably a good idea.**

**Btw, you guys can totally PM me suggestions of places in Europe I could mention. That would be grool. (;**

**Ariela**


	3. Chapter 3: I barely know you

**I had to repost this chapter, because I messed up something important, so yeah... You can read again if you want to, or if you don't, you could always go back after some time. (:**

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: I BARELY KNOW YOU**

_We sit and talk,_

_quietly, with long lapses of silence_

_and I am aware of the stream_

_that has no language, coursing_

_beneath the quiet heaven of _

_your eyes_

William Carlos Williams – Paterson

* * *

_April 2nd / April 3rd_

Kate sits quietly on the bench at the platform 6, waiting for the train to arrive, so she will be able to finally escape this city. People are totally right when they say that Paris is for lovers only, because Kate has seen it with her own eyes, all of it. It was all hiding in that damn stranger's cobalt blue eyes and in his nervous smile. She is fascinated by him, yet so familiarly disgusted with herself to even think about ever being able to be enough for him, for anyone in that matter.

A whistle sounds nearby and Kate jumps at her seat, finds that it's only a flustered father calling his children to follow him.

Kate makes herself comfortable again and lights another cigarette. She's got to be careful now, she only has half a pack left and the night train to Brussels takes 4 hours and she doesn't know if she'll be able to fall asleep at all.

She searches in her backpack for a bottle of water, finds it almost empty. The train leaves at 11 PM, so she still has about ten minutes to go downstairs to the restrooms and fill up the bottle. She quickly gathers all her stuff and struts down the marble stairs, never noticing a man just arriving at the platform.

* * *

Rick decides to just buy the InterRail card – it's easier this way – and tries to think of a place to drive to tonight. He skims the list of departures and sees the closest one is 11PM; Brussels.

_Well, why not_, he thinks absentmindedly and slowly ascends the stairs to platform 6. The tracks are empty, not a train in sight, but he knows it will be coming sooner or later. It's dark now anyway and foggy with smoke, so Rick can't see much of anything, except for the giant railway clock hanging from the roof.

There's a sound of a train moving along the tracks somewhere in the distance and Rick pulls his hoodie over his head, zips up his bag and shoves the strap onto his shoulder. It's a bit heavy, but he'll survive.

The train arrives and the doors open, letting passengers out. Rick patiently waits, and while doing that, he looks on both sides of the platform, trying to see if there are any other lonely night travelers like himself waiting to board the train.

He sees an old man at his left; he's carrying a brown box. Richard could only guess what's in it. There's a middle-aged couple on his right, holding hands and kissing. They look happy, Rick notices. There are a lot of people waiting for this train, their chance to go somewhere better. Maybe they find their happiness in Brussels.

Rick doesn't have time to look behind his back, because right then one of the uniformed men comes out and tells them they can go in. He takes a careful step to the inside of the fairly new steel wagon, looks around to see where it's best to spend these 4 hours in.

He chooses one of the coupes on his right, closes the door after him and slumps down into a chair, closes his eyes for a moment.

Then he realizes someone has knocked and is now holding the door open.

He doesn't have time to school his expression before his bewildered and flustered smile gives him away.

* * *

Kate groans at herself inwardly and quickly boards the train. She was meaning to catch a coupe all for herself, but now probably all of them will be already occupied. She doesn't really want to share her quite personal space with anyone, but she'll clench her teeth if needed.

She shuffles the hallway of the wagon quickly and sees that all the coupes are already vacated, except for one, with curtains pulled together and door closed. Kate desperately wishes it's empty inside that coupe, but she still knocks.

What she finds in the small space is better than an empty coupe.

"You…" she starts with intention to scold him for following her of accuse him of being a stalker, but then there are also his surprised eyes and his flushed face; a proof that he had no idea she'd be boarding right this train.

She kind of just stands there, in between the sliding doors and tries to form a sentence, something that would sound calm and pulled-together. Instead she jumps and stumbles forward as the train finally moves.

* * *

Rick has no words for the vision in front of him. No words.

She's wearing same clothes as a few hours ago, but her eyes look more alive in the light of the coupe, her skin looks paler and her face more fragile, her mouth shut in a tight line above her chin.

"You…" she grits out and he realizes she _does _remember him, the way they had stared at each other in the crowded piano bar.

The train suddenly moves and the woman stumbles into the coupe, her hands clutching her backpack with steel fingers.

"Hey," he gasps. He doesn't think he's capable of saying anything more, not with her beauty spreading like smoke all over the place. There's a short moment of horrifying silence from both of them and then she erupts like a volcano.

"Are you following me!?" she hisses and he kind of blacks out for a second there, because she looks really scary and he can't help but think this look with narrowed eyes and clenched teeth and her nostrils flaring has been practiced on someone before.

"N – no!" he croaks out and lifts his hands as in surrender. He's surrendering to her, yes. She can have him any way she wants.

"Then what the _hell _are you doing here?"

"I'm – I – I don't know, I just wandered and then I saw the sign and the InterRail – Brussels, it was the first, I –"

"Stop babbling," she interrupts, then sighs and closes her eyes. He figures she's composing herself. When her eyes open again, there is a determination there, sealed into the soft grass of her greenish irises.

"Okay… Okay. So this is what we're gonna do," she says and he can't really listen to what she's saying because she looks really good and he's sure she's going to be the death of him.

"Hey!" He snaps out of his daydreaming and has the decency to at least look embarrassed.

"Sorry," he mutters. He has a weird hunch that she's planning on killing him, but she only sighs and presses two fingers to her left temple.

"Come on, move your bags. I need to sit down, my feet are killing me." He does as she had said and then carefully leans back into his own seat. As Kate sits down and groans, he feels a rush of blood to his southern parts and desperately tries to think of dead puppies to not embarrass himself any further.

"What are you doing here?" he asks her instead. Her eyes open and bore into his. He blinks and swallows hard under her steady, calculating gaze. She had seemed much nicer back in the bar.

"Vacation."

"But you seem lost," he comments without thinking in advance and it backfires as soon as the woman straightens her back and leans toward him.

"I'm not lost. I have a plan, an InterRail card, which I plan on using often, and I know where I wish to go for my next destination. Can you say the same for yourself?" Rick has to remind himself how to breathe and just as he's about to say something, a man in blue uniform opens the door and asks for their tickets.

* * *

They don't speak at all after that.

Kate has a feeling that she's scared the poor guy away and as much as she hates herself for doing so, she wants to not become attached to someone who's just as lost as she is, maybe even more. She wants freedom and her own free will at her disposal.

So why doesn't she now, as she looks at the mystery man, quietly resting with his eyes closed and his head against the cushioned seat, feel an urge to run away? She's always been about running.

As she tries to think this through, she finds her eyes slipping closed without her volition, but she promptly stops thinking and listens to her body instead.

_Let him in, let him in, let him in._

* * *

When Rick wakes up from his slumber, the girl is lying down on the seats on the other side of the coupe, her legs curled, her knees against her stomach. She looks … different in her sleep. Peaceful. Like there's nothing troubling her, although Rick knows that's not exactly true.

The brunette shivers suddenly and cuddles her back into the cushions, lets out an uncomfortable moan.

She must be cold.

Rick takes a blanket out of his backpack and covers her with it, tucks the end of it under her feet. She helps him unconsciously in her sleep; lifts up the hem to her chin and releases a happy sigh that brings smile onto Rick's lips.

He sits back on his rightful spot then, looks at the still-stranger and tries to think of a story for her: young woman, probably in her early twenties, travelling alone across Europe. And she's not exactly scared of doing that without anyone?

So she must know how to take care of herself.

Rick wonders what led her to Europe, why she felt the need to escape.

He brings out his writing book, scribbles down notes about the woman lying across from him, tries to put her beauty into words. He manages, somehow, although it's hard. But he writes for a long time, makes up a character that's based on her; fierce and strong and pretty and determined.

He thinks he loses his words somewhere around the time when she opens her eyes and lifts her head.

"Hi," he says. She looks confused, but then she sits up and notices the blanket he tucked her into.

"Wha – is this yours?" she asks, curling an eyebrow up.

"Yeah. I – I thought you would… You were shivering in your sleep and I had a blanket and I thought you'd be more comfortable with it. I – I could –"

"Stop." He shuts his mouth and she smiles.

"Thank you. For the blanket. I know I wasn't very nice to you before."

"Oh, don't worry. I can understand why one would be upset about this… _situation_."

* * *

Kate wakes up warm and at least a bit more comfortable than she fell asleep. The sight before her eyes greets her with a strangled 'Hi' and Kate knows he took care of her, but she still asks.

And apologizes. Because this man is kind of sweet. And cute.

"I'm not upset," she says then, in the answer to his previous comment.

"Of course you're not."

"I'm serious."

"Okay." He allows a smirk to appear on his face and she rolls her eyes.

"Whatever," she mumbles and instead curves her back, stretches it, feels the muscles pop, so she groans.

"It's pretty uncomfortable sleeping in here if you don't have the seats pulled out, you know." Kate turns her head back to the man and sees he's just being thoughtful.

He probably doesn't mean to tease, right?

"Right… How do I do that, exactly?" she asks, because she has no idea. Trains in New York are much different than these in Europe.

"You have to pull the handle on the right-hand side." Kate finds the silver handle and pulls on it and the seats she's sitting on spread out to the middle of the coupe.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

It's quiet after Kate settles back down. She still has the stranger's blanket and it smells really, _really _good, like lemons and summer and _him_. It's a bit weird, because she doesn't even know the guy, but it feels like there's just something about him, that's attracting her to him like a moss to a flame.

"What's your name?" she asks suddenly, in her quest to find out what's so different about him. He grins and extends his hand.

"Hello, I'm Rick," he tells her and Kate has to hold back a smile. She takes Rick's hand and as their palms brush, she hears him gasp and feels the fire burning slow in her own stomach.

"I'm Kate," she offers back and the hand wrapped around hers squeezes, then slowly drops away. Kate mentally slaps herself for wishing it wouldn't.

"Kate," he says it himself, rolling her name on his tongue. It sounds rather endearing… And maybe just a tiny bit sexy…

Okay, so _a lot_ sexy.

Rick looks away from her and busies himself with something else once again.

Kate studies him then, watches as he reads something that doesn't quite look like a book. His facial expressions are interesting, his lip curling and his brows furrowing, his nose twitching. Kate's mesmerized with the fall of his hair over his forehead and the way his lips would sometimes form the words he's reading. He looks really young. She wonders how old he is, how many years he's spent living.

And then it kind of just slips out of her mouth.

"How old are you?" He looks at her with surprise painted across his face.

"I'm 24. Why?"

"No reason."

"How old are _you_?" he asks.

"22."

"Ah. Still in college?"

"No, actually. I – I'm in the Academy."

"Academy?"

"Yes."

"As in… police academy?" Kate nods and bites her lip to stop an amused smile from spreading. The man looks like he's just been run over by a truck, he's gaping so hard, eyes wide like saucers.

"You – you're a cop?" he asks in disbelief and Kate frowns.

"Do you think women aren't strong enough to be one?"

"No, no, just – you're – you don't look like a cop," Rick quickly explains and looks her up and down.

"Is there a dress code for cops?" She's having fun. He's so easy.

"N – no?" he answers, although it does sound more like a question. Kate smirks and decides to let it go for now.

* * *

"What are you reading?" she asks him and he looks at her, confused.

"The black book in your lap. It is a book, right?"

"Nah. It's actually kind of like a diary."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's not a diary, though. It's – I'm… I like to write. So… Yeah," he mumbles and then puts the book back into his backpack. He doesn't really want Kate to – knowingly or unknowingly – read his words, especially not ones he wrote for – _about_ her.

"Do you like to read, too?" Rick's head snaps back up from his hands and she seems interested in that topic, like she's spent her childhood collecting books and storing them onto shelves, marking the sentences she liked most. He figures he's not far from truth.

"Yeah, I do."

"Favorite author?"

"Bukowski. Definitely Bukowski."

"Oh. You look more like the 'Patterson type' to me," she tells him and then smirks as he narrows his eyes.

"No. Bukowski's my favorite. Yours?"

"Dostojevski," she rolls the surname out without trouble.

"Russian realism, huh?"

"Yes. I wanted to study literature, especially the Russian one, but then…" Kate trails off and suddenly she's busy with her search for cigarettes in her backpack. Rick doesn't push. He knows she probably doesn't want to talk about it, and really, she's barely known him for a few hours, what made him think she'd ever tell him her troubles?

"You want one?" she asks, and he nods his head. She passes him one and lights both of them, then leans backward and chews her lip in silence as she stares out of the window.

"Are you okay?" he asks after a few minutes, when their cigarettes are already resting in the ashtray. Kate looks at him and a corner of her mouth lifts up. It lifts his heart for a few millimeters, too.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good. That's – good."

They don't speak after that.

**Like it? Hate it? Reviews would be great, people.**

**Ariela**


	4. Chapter 4: What destiny may bring

**I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING SOONER. Basically what happened is that I didn't have time to write at first and then my computer kinda crashed, so I couldn't write OR DO ANYTHING ELSE, so I almost died, but here I am.**

**I hope you guys are still with me on this. **

**Things are getting interesting here. (;**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: WHAT DESTINY MAY BRING**

**April 3rd**

* * *

_Watching people is a good hobby, but you have to be _

_careful about it. You can't let people catch you staring at them. If_

_people catch you, they treat you like a first-class criminal. And maybe _

_they're right to do that. Maybe it should be a crime to try to see things_

_about people they don't want you to see._

Carol Rifka Brunt – Tell The Wolves I'm Home

* * *

Kate wakes up ten minutes before the train is supposed to stop. She licks her chapped lips and takes a sip of water from her bottle.

Then she looks at Rick.

He's slumped on the seats, his mouth open and eyes tightly shut. His hair hangs on his forehead in bangs, messy and adorable.

Kate sighs, moves from her side of the coupe unwillingly and shakes Rick's shoulder gently. He mumbles something, then tries to turn around in the cramped space.

Kate groans and tries again, this time calling for him.

Rick finally stirs and opens his eyes, sleepily looks up at her.

"Hi," he husks, then startles when he wants to sit up, but can't because of Kate's hand on his shoulder.

Kate realizes that she's tracing circles with her thumb over the fabric of his sweatshirt at his collarbone, immediately retracts her hand and shuffles back over to her backpack to make sure she has everything before the train stops.

"Where are we?" the man asks her.

"We're almost here, I think. A few minutes maybe."

"Why are you going to Brussels?" he suddenly probes and Kate stifles at her spot. She shuts her eyes closed and then opens them with newly found determination and turns back to Rick.

"Why does it matter why I'm going there? Why do you even care? I'm just going and I'm not very keen on second-guessing my own decisions," she tells him sternly. Rick blinks at her slowly, then lowers his head and gives her a curt nod.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely, looking back into her brown irises, then rises and packs up his stuff. There's a moment when he comes closer to grab his blanket and he's so near, if Kate leaned in for a few inches, she'd be breathing into his mouth. She's tempted for about a second, but then remembers who he is.

Then, she realizes she doesn't really _know _who he is.

* * *

They both step off the train at the same time and Rick almost wants to kneel on the ground and kiss it. He gets a bit sick on trains, but somehow, this time it wasn't as bad as it usually is.

Kate is staring at her shoes intently, like she's trying to will them to move away from him.

But she doesn't move, doesn't even say a word.

"Where are you going?" he asks her, because he'd really like to stay close to her and get a chance to get to know her better.

"I don't know," Kate mumbles.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well maybe we could find something to see, you know, together?" he half-asks, silently praying she would say yes. Kate's surprised eyes lift up to regard him and then she bites her lip and slowly shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"No."

"No?" He wants her so badly to change her mind and go somewhere with him, anywhere.

"No. I'm sorry, I just – I think I need to do this on my own."

"Do what on your own?"

"Find… _something_. Find myself, maybe."

"But –"

"It's been nice. Travelling with you and all. But it's time to say goodbye." Rick's heart breaks.

S_he's leaving, just like everybody always leaves, Richard. You're on your own_.

"Rick?"

"Yeah, yeah, um… So, I guess – have a safe trip?" Kate smiles and Rick can see a hint of pearly whites showing, breaking the barrier of tight lips.

"I will. You too," she says, then offers a hand to him. He takes it with a strong grip and a hint of pleading that he's not entirely sure she notices.

"Thank you again."

"Thank _you_. I hope you'll find whatever you're looking for."

"Me too. Goodbye, Rick," she softly murmurs and then extracts her hand from his sweaty one.

She never even looks once over her shoulder.

* * *

Richard feels a hole in his chest, a gaping chasm of haunting fears and ghosts. He doesn't even feel his heart beating.

He really thought Kate could maybe change something inside him. In a way she did. But only as a stranger on a night train to Brussels and that's what saddens Rick the most - that he never even got to know her, all her flaws and routines and the cause for her pain.

Maybe it's best he did not. He could see Kate wasn't willing to share her troubles with anyone, much less himself, but he still kept the stupid ball of hope stuck somewhere deep inside his ribcage, like a fool.

* * *

Kate strolls the street of Brussels headlessly, without a cause. She doesn't know where she's going, just that she wants to feel something, meet someone, maybe someone like Rick.

And here she is, thinking about him again.

He's made quite an impression on her, not without trying on his part, though. But still.

He was interesting and intelligent. Kate hasn't met a person like him in a long time.

She sighs, pushes her curly hair behind her ear. The sun's scalding on her skin, like cigarette burns, so she takes her cardigan off and revels in the feeling of light breeze on her skin.

She feels fatigued. Not because a lack of sleep, but because of life. Life drains the power out of people and turns them into these numb night monsters then demands they walk in the daylight, wander like little children in an endless crowd of bed hair and wrinkled clothes and frowns and scrawny hands.

Kate feels like she doesn't belong in this sun-kissed city.

Then again, she feels like she doesn't belong _anywhere at all_.

* * *

He tries to look for her, tries to think of what he'd do if he were her, but it's hard, because _he doesn't know her_. It's getting him really pissed off at himself for not trying hard enough to stay by her side.

Rick rubs his eyes with two fingers, then sighs impatiently. He doesn't know where to go.

Then he sees a little café on the street corner near a cathedral and decides it's best if he just gets some caffeine in his system first.

But before he can sit down on one of the chairs outside the café, he sees Kate at one of the tables, cradling a coffee cup and looking at him as if he were a ghost.

* * *

Au Soleil is a nice and cozy place with a beautiful terrace outside. Kate is drawn to it because of the sun and her craving for coffee. She sits down on a chair facing the sun and closes her eyes. She opens them when the bartender comes to take her order.

Five minutes later, as she takes a sip of coffee, she looks up to the street to look at random passersby and instead sees someone she thought she'd never see again.

Rick's hair is messy and there's a hint of a smile on his face, like he's all too happy to see her, but not willing to show it. He walks towards her and scrunches up his face in thought.

"What?" Kate asks.

"No 'Hello, Rick'?" he teases.

"I don't say hello to stalkers." Rick laughs and plops down in a chair opposite to her.

"Hi, Kate," he says softly and it melts her insides.

"Hi," she says back. "So… What brings you here?"

"Coffee and good company, I guess," he answers her and then shows her his teeth as he grins.

"I can't believe I'm seeing your face again," Kate huffs exasperatedly and hides her face in her hands as she feels the red creep up her neck.

"I'll take this as a compliment," he says and as she lifts her head, a smile lightens up Kate's face involuntarily.

"God, you're incorrigible."

"I know."

The bartender interrupts their staring match and Rick orders coffee without looking away from Kate.

As he leaves, Rick comments, "I guess we're both coffee addicts, right?" Kate grins and nods.

"Yeah. It's something I can't go without," she says, then looks meaningfully at him.

* * *

They take the right turn and walk slowly down Rue des Grands Carmes. They don't talk; they simply enjoy the beautiful day and each other's presence.

Sometime after leaving the café, Kate puts on her black sunglasses and is graced with Rick's smile.

"You know I used to put my sunglasses on and pretend I was a spy when I was still a kid," he tells her. She just snorts, brushes a hand through her cobwebbed hair.

"I'm not surprised."

"That's too bad. Well then, let me try you," he offers excitedly. Kate half-turns towards him in confusion. "What?"

"Let me try to figure you out, Kate." Her face blanches and she looks away, shrugging. "There's nothing to figure out, Rick."

"Oh, I'm quite sure there is. You're like an onion; layers and layers of –"

"Did you just call me an onion?" Rick gulps, stutters even as Kate laughs at him. "You're too easy."

But he's already forgetting her jab, because she has just laughed and there's still a big smile on her face. Another layer of Kate. He wants to peel back those layers, until there's only soft and shiny core and – okay, that got out of hand _way _too fast. What he means to say is: Kate's complicated. He wants to know what's hiding inside her, like her past and all of her secrets.

"What happened to you?" tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop himself and he hears Kate suck in a breath.

"What?"

"Why are you searching for yourself?"

"You're stepping way over the line here," she warns him angrily and he can't help but think there's something buried so deep within her that she doesn't want out. He wants to help her get it out.

But she obviously doesn't want him to probe her anymore. He understands. He wouldn't want anyone poking at his secrets, either.

"I'm sorry," he says then, because he truly is; he's a jackass and insensitive, oh but Kate's eyes light up a bit and her mouth quirks up into a curve as she shakes her head, "It's fine, I just… I barely even know you."

"How about we fix that, then?" he asks her, with a half-serious expression covering his handsome face. Kate bites her lip and think for a moment, then mentally curses herself when she realizes she wants to get to know him.

"Sure," she answers him, lighting up the blue of his eyes.

* * *

Kate finds out soon later that she can't stop smiling; Rick walks next to her, with his hands waving animatedly in front of him as he tells her all kinds of stories.

He's very amusing and interesting; maybe a bit creepy with the way he sometimes stares at her, but she likes it either way – not that she'd ever admit it to him, nuh-uh.

But he's got this aura of _existence _surrounding him, like there's something in him that Kate's looking for. She thinks maybe she hasn't come here to find herself after all; maybe she's come here to find someone like _him_.

Just him.

Rick.

**So, I hope you liked it.**

**Reviews would be greatly appreaciated and they'd also make me write faster. **

**Ariela**


	5. Chapter 5: Hide from me

**Hey guys. I apologize for how long it has taken me to write this down and it's not even as long as my other chapters. **

**My excuse for it? Well, life happened. **

**Hope you like this one.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: HIDE FROM ME**

**_April, 3rd_**

* * *

_This is what you should know about me: I'm bland._

_I'm milk. Worse, I'm water. Worse yet, I'm a water glass – at least_

_water can change shape or become some other form, like ice or vapor._

_Instead, I'm bland and rigid and everyone can look right through me_

_and see that there's nothing. I've got nothing. _

_I'm walking wallpaper._

Gregory Galloway – As Simple as Snow

* * *

Dusk slowly descends upon Brussels as Kate and Rick continue with their game of questions. Kate is surprised about how well-behaved Rick is; he doesn't pick at her, with unwanted questions and intrusions into her private life. He does ask her if she has a boyfriend, though.

She just laughs and shakes her head.

(She also notices how he seems all too happy about that.)

* * *

They grab lunch to-go in a little restaurant and sit down on a bench in a park next to Quai a la Houille, green trees surrounding the pathways waving through the park. There's a playground situated in the center of the park, and Rick sways for a moment with the weight of all the things he could've had; little girl with bright blue eyes, tugging on his hand impatiently, '_Daddy, come _on', he would hear, then pick her up and swing her around and blow a raspberry into her tummy and then she'd run away, laughing, towards the playground.

It hits him with a force he doesn't expect.

"Are you okay?" Kate asks and grabs his carton of Chinese when it looks like it's about to fall to the ground. Rick looks at her and convinces himself that it's okay as long as Kate's with him and he's not in New York – he wishes it was enough.

"Yes," he lies. "I'm fine. Let's eat, shall we?" And then he takes his food and dives into it with a fake smile upon his face and his eyes carefully trained away from the kids climbing the ladder to the slide in front of him.

* * *

Kate's wondering if she's done something wrong by the time Rick avoids her gaze for the third time. _Maybe he just got disinterested in the story I've been telling him or he's got his head wrapped around something else, _Kate thinks, but somehow, she knows it's not her fault, judging by the way he still sits close to her, his knee brushing over her leg with his bouncing leg.

_He's nervous_, she realizes then. His eyes keep stranding from one spot to another, never staying too long on one spot.

"Hey, Rick," she prods, and his face swivels towards her.

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea. Come with me," she tells him, throws their empty food containers into a curiously and it makes Kate's heart flutter a bit when she sees the nervousness and the sadness disappearing from his blue eyes, instead leaving a not-so-subtle smirk on his face and more color in his cheeks.

Rick takes her hand, stands up, and with one last glance at the playground, he exits the park with her.

* * *

As they step on the street, Rick realizes they're still holding hands, with just slightly linked fingers, making him falter his step for a moment. He thinks she doesn't notice, but a second later, she has both of her hands back in her pockets and her face carefully hidden beneath the mask of her auburn hair, but she doesn't quite succeed in hiding her blush.

Rick listens to the sounds of the busy EU capital city and people going to work and people having breakfast, everything surrounding him; a New York City person, who is used to the crowded streets and noisy people, enjoys finally being able to hear something other than just traffic and talking on every step of the way.

Brussels looks beautiful, and as Rick and Kate reach the Grand Place, the main square in the city, with the old buildings looming over them, Kate reaches into her backpack and produces a black and silver Polaroid camera, then insists that Rick poses in front of The Town Hall.

She takes a picture and waits for it to appear on the Polaroid paper, while Rick asks a random passerby what else there is to see in Brussels. Apparently, you can't go wrong if you go see the European parliament.

So after Kate shows him the picture and laughs at him making a face on the photo, they try to find the parliament, but fail a few times along the way, and in the end, they just sit down in the park, bask in the afternoon sun and eat hot dogs they bought from the street vendor when Kate's stomach rumbled so hard that people around them looked funny at her.

* * *

After they finish their hot dogs, it's well past two already, and the sun falls on the planes of Rick's face, the bridge of his nose and the swell of his lips. Kate sighs internally at herself, then lies down next to him, as he rests his arms along his sides. There is a content smile on his lips, and she hasn't thought about him as _beautiful _in the past few hours they've known each other, but it's what he is. He's just indescribably _beautiful._

When he turns to look at her and gives her a crooked grin, her stomach gallops and her mouth quirks up uncontrollably. She chastens herself, looks up at the sky and has an inner monologue that consists of _don'tfallforhimdon'tfallforhimdon'tfallforhim _and _don'tlethimindon'tlethimindon'tlethimin_. It causes her head to hurt, but she decides to take it for the sake of her fragile heart.

Somewhere around when her eyelids start dropping and the light breeze brushes through her hair, Kate hears Rick's voice somewhere close to her.

Her eyes slip back open and she presses her cheek against the green grass. Rick is really close. Too close for her to consider it appropriate for right now. So she pushes him back with a hand to his forehead and curses when a few strands of his hair slide through her fingers, teasingly caressing her skin and making her shiver inside.

"What are you doing?" she finally croaks out.

"I'm watching you."

"Why?" Rick smiles and reaches up to tug her hand away from his forehead to his chest, where he entwines her fingers with his. "Because you're beautiful."

Kate is pretty sure that by now she's colored bright red all over her face and her neck, but still keeps the hope that he doesn't see it. And then he smirks and shatters that hope in a millisecond.

Kate becomes aware of the warmth in her belly then, and extracts her hand from his out of caution. "Thank you," she doesn't forget to say.

* * *

After that, they lie on their sides, facing each other. Kate's eyes look bright green, almost as if they were a mirror image of the grass below her lovely cheekbone. She has a little smile painted on her face, right on the edges of her mouth: that laugh lines that trail from the curl of her nose to her lower lip.

She looks divine in that moment, with the sun shining down on her warm body and the sweep of her eyelashes against her pale skin. Rick tries to think back and remember a woman who'd look lovelier than Kate, but he finds nothing. In the darkest and deepest corners of his writer mind, he finds no one more beautiful than Kate.

And he's selfishly glad to be able to look at her now, but he despises not being able to lift his hand and draw goose bumps onto her skin with just the pads of his fingers, and his mouth.

With that thought, he remembers Meredith and how he used to adore her beauty, too, but with her come the memories of an unlived life of an unborn beloved.

Rick shuts down again and looks away from the entrancing eyes in front of him to the skyline of the trees against the sky above his head.

* * *

"Rick…"

"Hmmm?"

"Tell me a story." With that, he looks, surprised, at her and opens his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to form words. Kate laughs and flicks his chin with her pointer finger. "Just tell me a story, Rick. You're a writer, you should have a big imagination, shouldn't you?"

Rick smiles slyly and nods. "I do have a very… _big _imagination. And of course you'll get your story, Miss Beckett. But just tell me the genre, so it'll be easier for me."

"The genre, hmm… Let's say sci-fi. I gathered from your passion about Star Wars, that you must love it, so what the heck. Tell me a sci-fi story."

Rick grins and cups her cheeks with his palms, excitingly murmuring, "You are going to _love _this!" He releases her immediately after (leaving Kate freaking out inside her head when she wishes his hands would stay on her skin), and starts weaving a story, with a twisted plot, which he sometimes forgets even himself and Kate has to help out.

* * *

By 6 PM, they realize they've spent whole afternoon in the park talking, so they stop with the story even as Rick jokes that they could write a novel together, based on the ideas that keep flowing between them.

"No, thank you. I'd rather keep my sanity, while I'm still young," Kate throws back to him instead, and chuckles as Rick pouts and follows her out to the street.

* * *

**Thoughts? **

**Sorry if it's not as good as the other ones. I kinda just wanted to get it up here. **

**Ariela**


	6. Chapter 6: Stay the night

**I know. I've been absent. I'm a horrible, horrible person. Yada yada. **

**Enjoy the chapter, hope you like it.**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: STAY THE NIGHT**

_But luxury has never appealed to me, I like simple_

_things, books, being alone, or with somebody who understands._

Daphne Du Mourier – The Lover

* * *

_April, 3rd_

They decide to spend the night in Brussels and take a train in the morning to somewhere new. They haven't decided where yet, just exchanged opinions and thoughts. Kate suggested Latvia and Rick suggested The Netherlands. Since they almost got into a fight because of that, they both thought it's best they decide in the morning.

At 7 PM, when they can't find any suitable hostels, Rick just stops a random passerby on the street. It's an old woman that smiles at them when Rick asks her if she knows about any cheap places where they could stay for the night.

"There is a new hotel in town, Albert Hotel. It's on Rue Royale Ste-Marie 27-29. It's quite cheap," she tells them in broken English, but it's understandable enough that they thank her after asking her for directions and slowly walk towards their destination.

Albert Hotel looks average from the outside, beige bricks and dark blue window frames making up the façade. Kate and Rick decide to at least try the hotel and see how the prices are, seeing as they don't have much money anyway.

Kate glares at her co-traveler at the front desk, when he suggests they take a single room with two beds, so they don't have to pay so much. "Sooner or later, we'll run out of money, and it's cheaper and I swear I'll be a perfect gentleman," he tells her.

After a short inside talk with herself, Kate reluctantly agrees (it's not like she'll be tempted to jump him or anything).

* * *

The room isn't quite as small as Rick and Kate have expected. The front door leads into a short hallway filled with paintings; one of them is a fake of The Birth of Aphrodite, which Kate absolutely adores. Rick just smiles and nods as Kate gushes to him about the beauty of the painting and starts telling him about the goddess of love and beauty (Rick actually already knows all about it, but he lets her talk, because he doesn't want to wipe the awed look off her face).

When Kate finishes with her short history lesson and looks at him with a sheepish smile – she doesn't realize how adorable she looks – they continue with the room research.

There's a small bathroom on their left, and then, at the end of the hallway is the bedroom. It's not small, but it's not the President suite either. There are two beds, situated next to each other, the bedding navy blue, contrasting with the beige colors of the hotel room.

Kate exhales slowly and smacks her lips together, then puts her backpack next to the bed that isn't by the window.

Rick asks her why not the window-side bed, but Kate just shrugs and tells him, "I don't like the sun waking me up," which seems illogical, because they would have woken her anyway in the other bed. It's not like Rick is five feet wide to be able to block out the sunrays. He likes the fact that his built is large, mostly his torso and shoulders, but he's not overweigh and he knows Kate knows this. He's caught her staring at his chest and abdominal planes enough times to know she likes his figure.

"So… what now?" Kate asks, and Rick averts his eyes from his bed to stare at her. The late spring sunbeams catch her hair and color it in a whole spectrum of brown and red and orange. She looks almost like a vision from his dreams, that have been haunting him the last few months. "Rick?" she calls out, and he clears his throat, then scratches at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, um… I don't know. We could, ah, maybe we could watch TV or… or something?" Kate smirks and crosses her arms on her chest.

"Are you okay?" she asks Rick, and although he wants to tell her how beautiful she looks, he refrains and instead just nods.

It's a little awkward after that. They sit on their own respectful beds and do their own stuff, completely disregarding Rick's opinion to watch tv: Kate reads a book Rick has never heard of before, and he writes about senseless things, doesn't really know what it is about. It's kind of like the stream of consciousness – _the winter has no meaning, what is here is not, I miss her, but she's here, where do I go next; I need to figure out, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, my bed feels lonely, my ears are deaf, I hear the sounds of something and it seems wonderful to be able to lie dead – _he stops then.

He hasn't had any suicidal thoughts for a long time, but now it feels like it has been building and in the silence of the hotel room, with a beautiful, but unreachable, young woman close to him, he feels unexplainably aware of the voices in his head that keep chanting to him, and he just wants to go home; back to his little baby.

Without realizing, he sniffs and feels liquid warmth ghosting slowly over the angle of his cheekbone.

Then a hand touches his shoulder and he's staring in the concerned face of Kate, her mouth opened in shock and her eyes stretched wide.

"Hey. Don't cry," she whispers, and he feels hollow enough to let his head tumble forward into Kate's neck and allows his tears to penetrate the walls he's been keeping up for too long.

* * *

Kate sits there for what feels like hours, with her fingers running repeatedly through Rick's hair and his face nestled into the crook between her jaw and her shoulder.

She was stunned for a few moments at first, but then she held him as tightly as she could, sensing his need to be comforted. She thinks he hasn't been comforted enough, and this thing that's breaking him, is now breaking him open, but Kate is acutely aware that she's probably not the right person to whisper _you'll be okay _and _shhh, it's alright_ into his ear. She's probably more fucked up than he is.

Also, she doesn't even have a clue why he's crying and how it has even come to this; all they were doing was minding their own business and he had been okay right until she heard him sniff and saw that he was crying.

So of course, she has a soul, and she felt bad for him, especially because in the one day she's known him, he seemed impenetrable to the bad things, and he always looked giddy and he was childish.

She didn't want him to cry, so she went to at least talk to him. But instead, he used her for a pillar, and well, she isn't completely opposed to it, not with his hot breath against the skin of her neck and his fingers coiled tightly into her t-shirt, his hair between Kate's fingers, all silky and soft, and her other hand strumming against his back, the play of muscles strong and unyielding, but at the same time so soft and sweet. The only thing really wrong about all this is that he's crying and she doesn't know if she even deserves to comfort him this way; she should have just left him to heal on his own.

With this in mind, she slowly brings both hands up to his cheeks and lifts his head so she can look at him. He's stopped crying, she notices.

He's looking at her like he's ashamed, and he opens his mouth, probably to say he's sorry, but then Kate is shushing him with her thumb. His lips feel wonderful under the pad of her finger and she has to physically stop herself from replacing it with her mouth.

"Rick, it's okay," she tells him, but he hangs his head in embarrassment. "You don't have to tell me what's wrong, but… When – if you ever feel like crying your heart out, I'm here, okay? Don't feel bad about it."

Rick's head lifts again, and suddenly Kate's aware of his body thrumming against hers, his torso touching her chest and his hands on her hips, his face too close to still be deemed appropriate. She stutters out a breath and her eyes fall to his mouth without Kate's permission.

Rick's fingers drag upwards to caress her ribs, and Kate stops breathing at once.

Rick moves closer, his leg wedging between hers, his knee almost hitting her _right there_, but then the only thing still moving closer is his face, his nose bumping hers, hot air curling between their mouths. They are still like that for a moment, and Kate can almost feel his lips brush hers, before she realizes what she's doing, what _they_ are doing and she moves away from him like she's been burned.

* * *

He doesn't know why he even let himself break down in front of her. He doesn't know why it felt so good to have someone, to have _Kate _be there for him, her hands gentle and her mouth tender with whispered promises that he'll be alright. He doesn't know why it even clamped around his heart right now, because he hasn't cried in weeks, and having someone with him, being as reckless and careless and free as he could be should help, not make him want to claw his insides out and vomit with the force of his loss and Kate, beautiful, beautiful Kate cradling him shouldn't feel good, but it did, it does, and he has never wanted to stay in another woman's arms forever, but with Kate… With her, he could stay suspended in one moment, their bodies drawn together with compassion and care, until he dies.

Nothing has ever felt so good.

And when his tears stopped falling and she told him that she's there for him, that he can cry all he wants, his heart just broke open and he couldn't stop himself. He had to paint her body with his fingers, had to taste her lips; but she pulled away before he could and he could feel the tension rush out of him in an instant.

"I'm – I'm sorry, I… I can't," she mumbles, with her fingers pressed against her lips and her eyes wide, almost black, a complete opposite to the sun still shining through the windows.

"What?" Rick chokes out, because he can't think of anything else, not when they almost _kissed_, not with the phantom of her body against him still settled deep into his bones, hard with grief, but melting slowly with the warmth of Kate's whole being.

"I need to take a walk."

"Kate, wait –"

"I'll be back soon," she promises, then almost runs to the door and shuts it loudly behind her.

He lies on his bed for a long time after that, staring up at the ceiling and growling at his stupid, stupid head, and he'll die if Kate doesn't come back, come back to _him, _because deep inside, he knows it wasn't just all his doing. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the hitch of her breath, how she wanted the kiss, how she wanted him to kiss her. But with how she moved back and how she ran away, he doesn't know if it would even mean anything to her, and he's pretty sure that she would have blown him off and really ran and then he would never see her again. He couldn't allow himself to fuck this up, because it felt like Kate was really his _friend_, and he was so glad for it – he hasn't had any real friends in forever. Everyone eventually leaves but he can't let Kate leave him. She is good for him: makes him happy and independent and she frees his soul of everything, and there is just _her._

He wants her, yes. He wants her carnally, his body thrumming with his need for her, but although there's some deep-seated care for her, he doesn't love her… yet. He thinks he might start to love her if she continues to be this amazing and wonderful and _pretty_.

So yes, being with her in _that _way would mean just one night with her, and something in him wants more than just that, even though he has his doubts.

* * *

She enters the hotel room at 11 PM. It's dark; none of the lights are turned on, so she doesn't know where Rick is. That is, until her eyes adjust to the darkness and she sees a silhouette of a man's body lying on the top of the comforter in his bed.

It looks like he's sleeping and for a moment Kate just stands there, observing the inhales and exhales of the man who, just two hours before, used her body to cry himself out.

When she ran from him and out to the street, she could feel the damp fabric sticking to her skin at her shoulder and her neck, still warm. She wiped it with the sleeve of her cardigan and strolled relentlessly, over and over crossing the same streets, until she realized she was walking in circles, and it always brought her back to the hotel; back to _him_.

All her life, Kate has had problems with continuously attaching herself to people too fast, relying on them and in the end, everyone has always let her down and made her hurt. Her mother was the only one who could make her feel okay again, but now even she was gone, and she left her only daughter to find the reason for her existence in this crazy world.

Kate hated her mother for leaving her for a long time since she passed away. But then, sometime in the year 2000, after she spent the night dreaming about her mother giving her lectures about life again, she felt that anger disappear, burn to ashes. All that was left was the grief and the sadness that Kate doesn't think she'll ever get rid of.

So being in Europe, with Rick, she has almost forgotten about her sorry excuse of a life and finally found hope that she could become something more, that she could be better, if not for someone else, then at least for herself and what she is worth of.

She stares at the long line of Rick's body; Kate's muscles clamp tight with the sudden urge to hug him and maybe use _him _to cry _herself_ out. There's a sharp inhale echoing into the room all of a sudden, and then a light comes on at the side of Rick's bed.

His eyes stare at her as he says, "I'm so glad you came back."

* * *

"Where else would I go?" Kate asks him. He feels relieved with the knowledge that she's back in the hotel room, safe and okay.

"I don't know. I was afraid something had happened to you, or that you won't come back."

"I didn't even take my backpack, Rick. I had to come back at some point," she points out and looks at him as though he's crazy.

"So you're leaving again? For good?"

Kate closes her eyes and bites her lip. She carefully sits onto the edge of her bed and fiddles with her fingers for a moment. "Look… After what happened, that – you crying and then…" she looks pointedly at him, and he can swear there's a blush on her cheeks. "And then that… I think we know we both have been hurt before and that we're both still hurting from some things and maybe it would be a good idea not to –"

"I know what you mean," he interrupts, because somehow he can't stand to hear her say she doesn't want it. "But, Kate. If you ever need someone who'll just be there for you, who'll happily listen to you gushing about your favorite painting or comforting you when you cry, I'm – I can be that. I can be that for you," he tells her, his voice serious and honest.

"Thank you," she says, and her face lights up with a smile when she offers a hand for him to shake.

"Is this like a peace offering?" he asks her, and she answers with a shrug. "You should have brought cookies along and I'd even be prepared to braid your hair and listen to you complaining about boys and their cooties."

This time, her laughter is the thing that eases his chest and makes his heart flutter against his sternum.

**Please review so I'll write faster and won't feel so bad about not writing anything and posting it. This is for everyone's good. (:**

**Ariela**


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